


Domesticity and Other Boats

by Robiness



Category: RWBY
Genre: Banter, Conversations, Fluff, Headmaster Clover Ebi, M/M, Mentioned Retirement, No Plot/Plotless, Old Age, Old Married Couple, Qrow is a part time teacher in Atlas but still does small individual missions, Robiness missed FGWeek2020, Romantic Fluff, Very brief mentions of past alcohol abuse/alcoholism, Very brief mentions of past depression/suicidal thoughts, nothing but fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23292958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robiness/pseuds/Robiness
Summary: A quiet, casual conversation between Qrow and his husband Clover, almost thirty years after they met.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 62





	Domesticity and Other Boats

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elementale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elementale/gifts).



> I was supposed to participate in Fair Game Week 2020 but real life stuff came up (good stuff, but busy!). This is what I was supposed to upload for Day 2: Domestic. Shame I couldn't have it up in time :(
> 
> For Elementale/[rwby-things-i-guess](https://rwby-things-i-guess.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, who once said that she enjoyed content where the ship gets to grow old. Told her that concept always made me cry, but here we are! Once the idea was planted, it was over for me.

When he was younger, Qrow wanted to forget. Mostly he wanted to die, but the former was the next best thing. He was intimately familiar with the bottom of a bottle — he couldn't spend time with his loved ones, didn't allow himself to, so liquor was his sole companion. He drank and drank and drank to wipe his heavy mind, to make everything inside shut up. Even when his hair started to grey, the only way to get past his memories was to push them way, way back. The only way to function was to lock away the hurt and pretend it didn’t exist.

Now that his body started to ache from age instead of his mind, now that he’s still fast but not _quite_ as fast (but didn't need to be, either), now that the adrenaline and desperation lay dormant — he could recall everything with some degree of fondness. Even the times that were difficult then. There was an unexpectedly long life between then and now—the gap still increasing—and so it was a little faded, easier to swallow.

That’s not to say he didn’t have quiet moments when everything’s a bit too much, when he needed to fly alone for an hour or two. But the shadows no longer lingered.

The years had gave him peace, and eventually he accepted that he was allowed to have it.

“You’re back!” Clover exclaimed, entering their home. He put Kingfisher on the nearest table, and went over to kiss Qrow. 

“Mhm, much to the disappointment of your colleagues,” Qrow quipped, stroking his husband’s greying beard. Clover had started growing it out around a decade ago, when he was first named Headmaster. Qrow had laughed at his insistence that it might help his image, but they both got used to it. 

Despite poking fun, Qrow personally thought that it just added to Clover’s natural, now mature charm, along with his crow’s feet and constant smile. He hadn't known what Atlesians considered an acceptable image, in fact he made it a point _not_ to know, but anyone in the kingdom who didn’t admire Headmaster Ebi’s appearance, whether or not they supported his progressive changes, did not have a valid point of view. 

“They’re your colleagues, too,” Clover reminded him, taking his hand and pulling him into their kitchen. “In fact, they’d only be yours by next month.”

Qrow tsked. “Don’t remind me. After your third retirement party, I had to watch my back for a while when people realized there was no stopping you.”

“Don’t you always?”

He smirked. “Yeah, but it reminded me of that... _fun_ period after we got married and people thought I was going to steal you away from this place.” Others didn’t understand that Clover would’ve gone willingly, that it was Qrow who didn’t see a problem with staying here for a few years so that Clover could do his job. Perhaps he would've reconsidered if he'd known that ‘a few years’ would turn into almost two decades, but he didn’t have regrets.

“Oh hush, the students adore you despite all your initial worries, Professor Branwen,” Clover teased, the lines around his eyes deepening. 

“Didn’t want to embarrass the golden headmaster who could do no wrong,” Qrow retorted before they chuckled at the memories of the mess-ups they _both_ individually committed since then.

Clover leaned in to peck Qrow’s jaw, where the stubble he'd had most of his life had become pale. “It’s okay, you were pretty hot.”

Qrow raised an eyebrow and put a hand over his heart in mock offense. “ _Were?_ I’ll have you know that some still say that I'm 'ruggedly handsome'. Just the other day I had a very nice conversation with a _very_ beautiful innkeeper after my mission.”

“Really? Were you threatening aggressive suitors again?”

He tutted. “I may have convinced them that there were more interesting things to look at than where a young lady’s skirt ended.”

“Such as the end of your blade?”

“You know me so well.” Qrow walked up to the counter with the intention to make them both some coffee, but Clover stopped him, caressing his wrist.

“I'll do it, you just got back from a trip.” Qrow acquiesced, sliding into a bar stool instead. 

“By the way, a little birdie told me…”

“Cheating on me with other sexy birds, I see.”

“What, the ones that migrated in the same direction?” Qrow said, laughing. “Unfortunately for the world, there is only one sexy bird and I happen to be happily married.”

Clover hummed in agreement, handing Qrow his mug. “Thanks.” Qrow took a sip and grimaced. “Or not. Did you even put sugar in this?”

“Yes, Qrow.”

“Failing grade for the husband,” Qrow whined petulantly. “I take it back—it’s like you don’t even know me anymore.”

“Qrow, you know the doctors said you have to be careful with that now. We’ve talked about this.”

“We didn’t talk about _torture._ ”

“Qrow.”

"Clover."

"Qrow."

“I think I liked you better when you were dead,” Qrow complained. Clover snorted, taking the sugar and creamer jars away when he saw Qrow eyeing them before occupying the stool next to his.

“I knew you only wanted me for my money. Anyway, you were saying…?”

Glare disappearing at the reminder, Qrow lazily put his elbows on the countertop in front of him. “Tai said your little project’s all set up,” he said, sipping casually. The effect was ruined when he scrunched his nose again at the taste.

Teal eyes brightened in surprised glee. “The boat’s ready?!”

Qrow fought a smile at the reaction. “Yes, but I don’t think any special boat could change the fact that you’re not even remotely good at fishing.”

“I use Kingfisher, how hard can it be to learn?”

“Says the man who never lived in the wild.”

“When will you stop lording that over me?” Clover said good-naturedly, still buzzing from the news. "It'll be idyllic. Lovely husband, quaint cottage, flowing water where I can catch fish...” Qrow couldn’t help but grin. 

"Trees. Rocks. Actual colour."

Clover shoved him lightly, stifling his laughter. “I’m an old man, let me be excited for my retirement."

“When I met you, I wouldn’t have thought you’d be the type.”

“A lot has happened since then,” Clover pointed out, pressing his lips on top of Qrow’s head, nuzzling the strands that have turned white with flecks of grey. “I probably would’ve been, if I knew it meant time with you.” 

Qrow was used to his husband's sweet words; while his heart never skipped a beat anymore, it was now constantly in a state of warmth and love and comfort. 

“And the boat, of course?”

Clover winked. “And the sexy, sexy boat.” 

“I love you,” Qrow said quietly, easily. Just because he wanted to.

“And I love you,” Clover replied, grin softening into something deeper, more real, and very familiar. “Don’t take too long to follow, alright?”

“Still don’t know why I can’t just up and leave this place.”

“Because you want to get the new graduates settled into their first assignments. And I love you for it. _They_ love you for it.”

“Your brats were a mess before I came along.” He smiled at the memory of the students growing, gaining skill and confidence.

“They’re your brats now,” Clover said cheerfully. “But yes, employing you was probably my best decision for the academy.”

That wasn’t true at all, and Qrow thought this with admiration rather than the bitterness he would’ve felt many years ago. He knew that Clover was the best headmaster Atlas had ever appointed, and that the faculty and student body were right to mourn his leaving. Clover too, had grown into himself there, and even Qrow had fun despite everything. But…

“I’m looking forward to having you all to myself,” he sighed, leaning against his husband. “...And if you say anything about the boat right now, I’ll have to smack you. It was in our vows.”

“Really? Must’ve missed that.” There was fondness in Clover’s voice. “I’m looking forward to spending more time with everybody there, too. Our grandnieces need spoiling, don’t you think?”

Oh, Qrow was wrong about Clover’s inability to affect his heart rate. 

He didn’t know why but it got to him every time, how casually Clover adopted his whole family as his, even though Atlas swamped him with duties before and after the war. He’s only been to Vale a handful of times, yet he was ready to spend the rest of his life there, the place Qrow was most comfortable with. 

Clover was his home, his family, and Qrow would've been satisfied if it ended at that, especially now that the kids weren't kids anymore and had their own lives. But his husband held his arms wide open not just for Qrow, but for everything Qrow valued, too.

This man might be a literal danger to his heart, but Qrow really loved him, and so he told him again. 

“And I love you, Qrow Branwen,” Clover said, gently, because through the years, he’s only honed his skills at assessing the weight of everything Qrow said and did. “You are the most incredible man I have ever met, and each day that passed has only made me love you more.”

“That’s a lot of days,” Qrow murmured, tracing the wrinkles on the other man’s face. “I don’t regret any of it. Don’t think I will for the ones that will follow.”

Clover leaned into his touch, making a pleased sound. “I’m glad to have them.”

“Heh, giving you time is hardly a hardship, old man.” 

Clover had given much of himself to Qrow, just as much as Qrow had given himself to Clover. That’s just how they were. It was precious, hard-earned comfort.

“Can’t wait until you grow soft,” Qrow said, patting Clover’s muscled abdomen. 

“Please,” Clover scoffed, pinching his cheek in retaliation. “I’ll probably have to wait on you hand and foot until we die. It'll be enough exercise.”

“Hmm, now that you mention it, I think that was also in our vows.”

“My memory must be really starting to fail me, then.”

Qrow involuntarily let out a yawn before he could return the snark. A tad inconvenient, how fatigue often came without warning these days.

Clover put an arm around him, automatically taking his weight to guide him off the seat. “Hey, you’ve had a long flight. Take a nap."

"It's barely noon..."

"Well, you didn't want to drink your coffee, did you? It's fine, let's get you to bed.”

Blinking slowly, Qrow muttered, “Join me?”

“Of course, Qrow. Always.”

And this, they both knew to be true. 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Yes, it was a reference to the story Qrow told his nieces about the innkeeper's skirt length  
> 2\. Don't sue me - the Patch family just likes joking about traumatic events okay?
> 
> Let me know what you think of this lil thing! (after we go through all the fg week submissions, I'm sure!!!!! almost a thousand fics bb)  
> P.S. I'm on [tumblr](https://robiness.tumblr.com/)<3


End file.
